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Thou settest a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy

severed self in myriad notes. This thy self-separation has taken

body in me.

The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured

tears and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again,

dreams break and form. In me is thy own defeat of self.

This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable

figures with the brush of the night and the day. Behind it thy

seat is woven in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away all

barren lines of straightness.

The great pageant of thee and me has overspread the sky. With the

tune of thee and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass

with the hiding and seeking of thee and me.

72.

He it is, the innermost one, who awakens my being with his deep

hidden touches.

He it is who puts his enchantment upon these eyes and joyfully

plays on the chords of my heart in varied cadence of pleasure and

pain.